


Snowbirds in Winter

by JadedMortician



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Brainwashed Bucky Barnes, Brainwashing, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes needs a therapist, Canon Divergence, Captivity, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Torture, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, The Avengers Have Issues, Torture, Trauma, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, civil war never happened
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-03-22 03:51:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13755717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadedMortician/pseuds/JadedMortician
Summary: In the aftermath of the devastation that Ultron caused, Steve Rogers finds a ray of hope. He succeeds in his mission to find Bucky Barnes. Or at least, he finds the man that his friend has become. In his desperation to bring back the Bucky that he knew and loved, Steve accepts an offer for help from Alice, the enigmatic psychiatrist hired by Tony Stark. Though Alice’s services have been gratefully received by many members of the Avengers team, Steve cannot predict the full extent of the affect that she has on his beloved Bucky.***The Asset can’t understand why people keep on calling him Bucky and pretending to care for him. He knows that he has been captured by the enemy and must escape at all costs. The only problem is, Alice and Steve are beginning to feel safer than his masters in Hydra, and the Asset doesn’t yet understand what that might mean.





	1. Falling Awake

As always, the Asset snapped from cryo-sleep into wakefulness in an instant. A gasping gulp of air echoed in his brain, but died before it could reach his lips. As always, he felt the panic inducing dead-weight that was his body, lungs still, heart silent. He lay on the table, numb, blind, and counted to 100 as his brain slowly starved itself of oxygen. He could feel the cold trickle of the serum that his handlers used to awaken him, creeping through his veins from the back of his neck. He counted. He waited. Any moment now… And with a jolt that arced his stiff, half-thawed body off the cold table, the technicians that he knew surrounded him brought him back to life. The Asset’s eyes slid open and he saw the larger technician set down the defibrillator, and lean over him with a torch. The fine beam of light hit his eyes and he automatically squinted away.  
“Pupils are responsive, he is no longer in hibernation.” The technician said to his partner.  
The Asset breathed in a harsh, cold rush, feeling the metal table vibrate beneath him. Sensation returned to his limbs. His technicians moved around him, checking his vitals and responses. This process was precise and rigidly timed and the Asset knew that he would remain lying on the table for a further fifteen minutes to thaw, before being placed through an hour of stretches and movement exercises to soften his cold-deadened muscles. As he lay on the table, he became aware that the process was not running as smoothly and predictably as usual. The lights sent shivers of light as they quivered from far off vibrations. He heard distant shouts and muffled explosions far off in the tunnels surrounding the bunker. Though it went against his protocols, he turned his head slowly, and saw his handler standing against the wall, his foot tapping in obvious agitation.  
“Can you bring him back faster?” he snapped, to the technician.  
The technician looked nervous. “Sir, the process has been expedited beyond safe parameters as it is. Thawing takes time. He is not yet fully active.”  
“We don’t have time. Will he respond to me?” his handler asked.  
The technician shrugged, “Try it and see.”  
“Asset 17-9-1. Activate and respond.”  
The Asset struggled to his feet, confused and dull with cold. His feet were still numb and blue as they touched the concrete floor. With his joints cracking from the cold, in a series of short pained bursts, he forced himself, naked and half-frozen, to stand to attention.  
“Awaiting instructions, sir,” he said, trying not to slur his words.  
His handler nodded to the technicians, who were staring at the Asset with apprehension. “Dress him.”  
While the technicians busied themselves with the process, the Asset’s handler turned back to him and gave him his information, and his orders. “Asset 17-9-1, listen, remember, and respond. Three highly dangerous individuals have breached our outer defences and are on their way to us as we speak. They intend to kill me, and capture and interrogate you. You will protect me while we escape from this place, or in the event that escape is not possible, you will protect me from harm at any cost, including your life,” he paused and then added icily, “I need not remind you of the protocols you have in place should you fail both of these tasks and find yourself captive.”  
The Asset nodded silently. He had been well trained, if he was taken by the enemy, he would not speak to his captors or give them any information that they wanted, he would submit to torture in silence, or even die before he spoke Hydra’s secrets. Suddenly, an echo through the tunnels brought a loud burst of conflict into the thawing chamber. The Asset’s handler listened into an earpiece and then nodded.  
“We move now,” he said.  
“Sir, the Asset is not fully thawed, he will not be able to defend you to his full capacity in open combat,” one of the technicians said, wringing her hands.  
“Then we shall hope that our escape succeeds. Asset 17-9-1, respond to instructions given. It’s time to go.”  
The Asset led his handler into the tunnels, keeping a fast pace through the long, dark halls. Dull orange emergency lights lit their way as they ran. The Asset could hear his heartbeat loud in his ears, and behind him, he thought he could hear footsteps that didn’t belong to him or his handler. The echoing walls of the tunnel threw back the sound of their footsteps and breathing over and over, in endless distortions that made the truth of their numbers impossible to discern. The tunnel network was extensive, seemingly endless. After perhaps 15 minutes of jogging, the tunnels opened out into a wider chamber. As they entered the cavern, the Asset could see his handler flagging. Slowing for the first time, he could clearly hear the sounds of their pursuers. He stopped still in the centre of the space and turned back toward the doorway. His handler stopped too, gasping for breath, hands on his knees.  
“We must fight, Sir,” the Asset said.  
“Yes,” his master replied between gasps, “They will be here soon. Protect me.”  
The Asset dropped into a fighting crouch, reaching for his weapons. Bullets would be dangerous to use in this space where they could ricochet and kill his handler, so he drew two long knives and waited. He did not have to wait long. Within seconds, three figures emerged from the tunnel. The Asset took them in with a single sweep of his eyes, assessing dangers and weaknesses in the group. Taking point was a tall man in blue and white army fatigues. His hair was short and blond, his face serious. He carried a large round shield; an unusual choice of combat tool. To his left was a red haired woman clad entirely in fitted black clothes that he could see were both flexible and very strong, probably made to stop bullets. She had the grace and fluidity of a dancer, and while she carried no weapons openly, the Asset could make out the prints of four knives and at least two pistols on her person. The person to the man’s right was wildly different again, a figure of indeterminate gender clad in a full body suit of silvery metal that made them look like a glistening insect. Their ensemble was topped with a face mask of some dark, reflective material. The slightness of the figure and the lightness of the gait suggested femaleness to the Asset, while the slightly awkward pose suggested that they were not long trained and unlikely to pose much of a threat. The other two people had a steady deadliness to their step that drew his gaze. He felt a sliver of concern in the back of his mind, but pushed it aside with cold focus. The tall man saw him and a surge of emotions passed over his features too quick for the Asset to read. He lowered his shield slightly and spoke.  
“Bucky? We aren’t here to hurt you, put down your weapons and come with us calmly and no-one has to get hurt. We just want to talk to you.”  
The Asset shook his head, a feeling like ice water falling over his head and shoulders. He tried to ignore the words and instead watched the two people flanking the tall man. They were edging out into the room, towards his master. The red-haired woman glanced at the blond man sidelong.  
“Plan B then?” she asked.  
The Asset was tensed to spring for the blond, when his master turned and made a break for the tunnel, running.  
It was the red-head who moved first. With a flick of her wrist she buried a knife in his handler’s shoulder, then sprang after him, catlike, as he stumbled and screamed in pain. The Asset followed her, hitting her hard from the side, and knocking her to the concrete floor. There was a hum in the air, and the Asset dropped to his knees as the whirling disk of the blond’s shield blurred past the top of his head. He spun and threw himself at the man, catching him on the arm with one of his knives. The heavy cloth of the man’s body armour caught the knife blade, and the man turned, blocked the Asset’s next attack and caught the Asset’s flesh hand in his.  
“Bucky, stop.”  
The words were like a swarm of bees in his head. He grasped the man’s arm and with a hard twist, threw him aside. The blond twisted as he fell and landed upright, on one knee. He surged to his feet again, but the Asset was already turning, snapping his metal hand out with speed and deadly precision. A knife blurred through the air and the blond barely flinched aside on time. As it was, the knife opened a shallow gash in his arm rather than embedding itself in his heart. A strangled grunt caused the Asset to turn back to his handler, who was grappling with the third person in the room. His fingers scrabbled ineffectually against the smooth surface of the body armour as the figure drove him to his knees, metal hands around his throat. The Asset, didn’t think, just ripped the attacker from his master and flung them across the room like they were a doll. The figure fell heavily onto the concrete, face-mask cracking as they connected with the floor. They rolled, ripped the mask away and stood in a single smooth motion, short black hair haloing their face as they turned back to the Asset, eyes narrowing in fierce concentration. He had been right, they were female, with fine pointed features. In the half-second that the Asset turned to see the flight of the dark haired woman, the red-head slid under his guard, and hit him with a kick that pushed him backwards across the floor and cracked two of his ribs. She followed up with a flurry of blows that he blocked on his arms and shoulders. He caught her arm and twisted, feeling the cracking of her bones under his metal hand with dispassionate analysis. She didn’t scream, but lashed out again with her leg, propelling herself away from him and forcing the breath from his lungs. The blond had his handler now and was bearing down on him, forcing him to his knees. The Asset turned aside from another attack from the red-head, and moved to protect his master once more. A sudden sharp pain flared in his lower back. He twisted from the pain, on time to see the third fighter pulling a long, empty syringe free of his spine.  
“That should be enough to knock out a horse” she said.  
The Asset stumbled, vision blurring, still attempting to protect his master, as he fell to one knee. As he watched, vision blurring, the blond man snapped his handler’s neck and dropped him onto the concrete.  
I’ve failed. He thought, and now I’m going to be killed.  
His vision went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my artblock fan-fiction: the story that I write when I can’t get my original works to flow out onto the page. I’m pretty new at this whole fan-fiction thing, and will gratefully accept any kindly worded critiques that you have.
> 
> I wanted to write a Winter Soldier fan-fiction, partially because I’m a sucker for traumatised men with metal arms (fullmetal alchemist anyone?) but also partially because I was really unhappy with the sheer number and depth of the plot holes in Civil War. I also dislike the way that mental health is handled throughout the marvel movie franchise in general, so I gave the Avengers a therapist to help them out. I’m writing this fic in interludes that alternate between Bucky’s perspective, and the perspective of my OC Alice, so next chapter is going to be more from her perspective and you will get to see Steve and Natasha some more as well.
> 
> CAUTION: This will be a long work. Like, I already have about 20’000 words written and I’m not slowing down. I am planning on releasing a chapter every week or so until I run out of story.


	2. Homeward

A large black truck rumbled down the highway in the dead of night. It’s darkened windows revealed no glimpse of the occupants. In the back of the truck, Steve Rogers paced back and forth across the short distance between his seat and the metal bed that Bucky was locked into. Steves expression was tense, blue eyes stormy. He had peeled off the top layer of his uniform and slapped some gauze over the graze in his arm. He stood near Bucky’s feet, examining the restraints on his friend in disgust. Heavy iron bands crossed Bucky’s chest and stomach, while individual shackles bound each wrist and ankle to the bed. The truck went over a particularly large bump, throwing Bucky’s inert body against the restraints. Alice stood quickly, and peered into Bucky’s face, concerned. Steve glared at the dark haired girl as she bent over Bucky’s still form and peeled back an eyelid to shine a fine light over his pupils.   
“I hate this. Alice, you didn’t need to knock him out, or put him in all of these restraints like this. I could have gotten through to him. He was responding to his name back in there. If I’d had more time…”   
“Personally, I’m quite pleased with this result.” Natasha interrupted cooly from her seat beside Steve, “I just wish Alice could have knocked him out before he broke my arm.”   
“How are you holding up?” Alice asked gently.  
“Better with that shot you gave me,” Natasha replied, “I can’t believe I let him get a hold of me like that. I’m going to be unfit for combat for a month. Stupid.”  
“He is well trained, and fast,” Alice murmured, “you don’t need to beat yourself up over your injury.”  
Steve stared at the floor of the truck in silence. Alice added more of the anaesthetic to his IV bag. The tension was thick in the air between them. Alice hunched her shoulders, her dark hair falling forward to shield her face. She was still wearing the metal suit that Tony had made for her, and it clicked slightly with every movement that she made.  
Steve shuffled his feet and finally spoke, “I still don’t want Alice to care for him. He is my friend, he should be my responsibility.”  
“Please leave the care up to the professional doctor, Steve,” Natasha replied with a sigh. “She only studied for, what, 12 years for this?”  
“Only 6 years of those years were related to psychiatric work, actually. I’ve studied for 14 years in total.” Alice was facing away from Steve, but she knew his gaze was boring into her back as she spoke. She lightly touched Bucky’s forehead, recoiling slightly from the chill of his flesh.   
“I can help him Steve. If you’ll let me help him, I might be able to bring back the Bucky that you remember.”  
“Might isn’t a very encouraging word to use,” Steve growled.  
Alice shrugged slightly. “Until I’ve given him a proper assessment it’s the best word you are going to hear from me regarding his long term prognosis. Though, I may remind you that I have made quite good progress with some, admittedly less traumatised members, of your hero society.”  
Steve glared at Alice. “Yes, I’m aware that it’s thanks to you that Tony can sleep through the night now. Though if you believe what Pepper does, you are also in a unique position to see that for yourself.”  
“Steve. You need to stop talking,” Natasha said. Her words were sharp, but her expression was sad.  
Steve sat down and put his face in his hands. Natasha placed her unbroken arm around his shoulders in a light hug.   
“At least Bucky is safe with us now,” she said softly.  
Bucky’s eyelids fluttered and revealed a sliver of his dark blue irises. Alice frowned and added more of the tranquilliser to his system. In sleep, his face was relaxed and young and peaceful. The truck sped onward toward the Avenger’s compound and Bucky’s new home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know this chapter is short, and doesn’t add much plot to the story. I thought that it was important to introduce the main characters from a perspective outside of the Asset’s understanding of them. I’m planning on including these external perspective chapters as every second chapter for the foreseeable future. Bucky is going to be confined to what is essentially a luxury cell for a while until he builds up his trust of the Avengers enough to not try to escape from them. The chapters from outside perspectives will also allow you to have a glimpse of the world outside of the four walls that he will be seeing for some time.


	3. White Noise

The light was soft. That was the first thing that the Asset noticed as he awoke. Usually the lights were harsh, blinding him as he came out of cryostasis. He turned his head slowly left and right. He was cocooned in blankets. Taking in the unfamiliar surroundings as his most recent memories began to return, he leapt gracefully to his feet. Or at least, he attempted to. He collapsed onto a pale wooden floor, tangled in the sheets, his breath coming hard and fast in his throat. Kicking himself free, he got to his feet, sweeping his surroundings for danger. There was very little in the room, just a bed with the covers rumpled from his struggle, and bolted to the floor. A large built-in cupboard was set into the far wall. Cautiously, the Asset approached the cupboard and threw open the doors. Inside, he found only neatly folded piles of clothing. He spun slowly, and saw a door on the wall beside his bed.   
Memories were resurfacing slowly. The dark haired woman had used a needle to knock him out. He remembered the blond man breaking his handlers neck. He had some dim memories of being carried, and being in the back of a moving van. It was clear to him that he had been captured by his enemy, but to what purpose? He felt a dull throb in his flesh arm and looked down to see a slightly bruised patch of flesh with a needle-mark in the centre. They had been keeping him drugged. The sensation of lost time had never bothered him when he came off the ice, but now it brought a sharp metallic taste to his mouth. With a sharp intake of breath, he suddenly realised that he was wearing different clothing to what he had been dressed in for combat. The shirt and pants he wore now were loose, soft material in black; useless for protection against attack.   
The Asset paused for a long moment, steadying his breathing. He dropped into a defensive crouch against the side of the doorway, and slammed the door open. The crash of the opening door died away into an eerie silence. He peered cautiously around the corner but the next room was also sparsely furnished and empty of enemies. Like the bedroom, this lounge and living area featured pale colours and furnishings that were bolted in place. There was also another door on the far wall. The Asset moved slowly into the new space, checking behind both of the couches for danger. At last, the Asset steeled himself and opened the door on the far wall. Inside was another white room, this one tiled, and with a shower, toilet and sink. A single towel hung on a rack in this room, and once more it was bare of any enemies, or obvious danger. It was also bare of any tools that might help him to escape.  
As the Asset turned to go back into the largest room of the three, a section of bare wall on the side of the room suddenly slid aside, and the dark haired woman who had tranquillised him stepped through the doorway. She was carrying a tray. The door closed behind her. The Asset turned back into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him and pressing his back to it. He could hear the rapid echoes as his breathing sped up. His gaze shifted wildly around the small space as he searched for something, anything to barricade the door with, other than his own body. There was nothing. He pressed his back to the door hard, expecting a knife or a bullet to slice through the wood at any moment and bury itself in his back. Pain never arrived. The room outside remained silent as he counted slowly to one thousand. He had no way of even knowing if the woman was still outside. He slid slowly to the cool tiles of the floor, torn between investigating the section of wall that could be his only way out, and staying in a space that at least had the illusion of safety.   
The Asset opened the door very slowly and peered through the gap. His breath caught and his flesh hand shook slightly as he realised that the woman was still in the space. She was sitting calmly in one of the chairs. Palms turned up in her lap. Waiting. She met his eyes calmly as he stared at her. Her gaze was level and even; her eyes a dark shade of green. He shut the door. There was a hard knot in his chest that was making it difficult to breathe evenly. He counted to one thousand again, and then opened the door once more. The woman hadn’t moved. The Asset stood frozen in the doorway, eyes locked on hers. After a long moment, she slowly slid her eyes closed. The Asset was transfixed with confusion for a moment, before taking a slow, cautious step into the room. She still didn’t move. Tensed for pain or action, the Asset moved past her as close to the wall as he could manage. He stopped in front of the section of wall that had opened for the woman and examined it closely. It was so smooth and so perfectly fitted that he could not even find the seam where it separated. He turned back to the woman calculating. He could overpower her, he was sure. Yet, she would surely have placed protections in place to prevent him from harming her. And he was unarmed, not even wearing shoes on his feet. The woman shifted suddenly, standing and turning towards him. The movement was shocking after her long stillness and the Asset sprang back into a crouch, backed hard into the corner of the room. Heart pumping adrenaline, he watched her carefully, tensed for attack. The woman slowly raised her hands and faced them toward him palms open and empty.   
“I brought you some food and drink, when you’re ready for it,” she said.   
Her voice was low and soft, barely above a whisper. He turned her words over in his head. He was instructed to not speak to his captors under any circumstances, and so he was silent.   
“I am going to leave now, so you can step aside from that wall, or I can have you put back to sleep while I leave. It’s your choice.”  
He stepped away from the section of wall where the door was, keeping his back against the wall. Once he was a few steps away, she walked toward the hidden doorway.   
The Asset tensed to spring. This was his best chance to catch her off guard. She turned slightly away from him and put her palm out toward the door. The Asset leapt, silently, arms outstretched. Mid-leap, he saw her turn, and drop to one knee. Her green eyes were narrow and gleaming. She twisted slightly and he slid past her, turning as he landed, to attack her again. She was ready for him, had probably expected this attack to come from the moment that she stepped foot into the room. She blocked his first two attacks, turning them harmlessly aside from her. His third punch got under her guard, and she twisted aside so that it only bruised rather than broke ribs. Catching her on the shoulder he bore down, saw her face twist with pain. He tensed for her retaliation. Pain was something he expected from this position; in his concern with restraining her, he left himself vulnerable to her own attacks. She didn’t attack, only spoke, through gritted teeth, to the seemingly empty room.   
“Capsule C, activate, F.R.I.D.A.Y,” she said.  
The Asset felt a wave of nauseating dizziness wash over him. He stumbled, loosening his grip on Alice’s shoulder. With a sharp twist, she pulled away from him as he fell against the wall.  
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Bucky,” she said.  
The section of wall slid silently open right beside him, and closed just as quietly behind her as she left. The Asset collapsed to the ground. Hands shaking, head spinning, he retched as his body metabolised the dose of whatever drug she had given him. How had she delivered the dose? The Asset could recall no needle. She seemed to have activated some kind of internal release mechanism with her voice alone. He felt a surge of panic at the control that the woman had over him. The dizziness and sickness slowly eased, and at last he stood again, shaking. His thoughts were moving too fast. In desperation, the Asset returned to the bedroom, cocooned himself in the blankets, and tried to think of nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter chapter 3! Featuring excessive descriptions and not much action. This chapter was hard to write in a way that seemed interesting, but I felt that I needed to write it so that readers could get a proper understanding of the Asset/Bucky in his very early days of confusion and panic.   
> I would happily accept constructive criticism on this chapter in particular, about how to introduce this new environment without slowing the pace down so much. Tune in next week for anxious mum-friend Steve clucking over the new arrival.


	4. The Beginning of the Line

The door to Bucky’s containment cell slid closed and Alice’s breathed out a trembling sigh. Her fingers crept up to massage the sharp point of pain in her shoulder where Bucky had grabbed her. The attack hadn’t been entirely unexpected, why else had she had those voice activated sub-dermal anaesthetic implants made? But she was still shaken over his demeanour, over the way he had crept around the room like a ghost. Over his lost, terrified gaze.  
“How is he?”  
Alice jumped and spun around, almost connecting with Steve, who was anxiously hovering, leaning against the wall behind her.  
“God please don’t tell me you’re going to do that every time I walk out of there,” she gasped, touching her chest lightly. “He is fine… well, I mean, he’s awake and active. I don’t know how long it will take…”  
“When can I see him?” Steve cut in quickly.  
Steve was leaned forward, eagerly, like a puppy stretched taut on the end of a leash. There was a whiff of desperation mixed in with the excitement in his piercing blue eyes. Alice ran a hand over her eyes and pushed back her short dark hair. “I don’t know, Steve. I’m waiting until he gets some memories of you that belong to a time before Hydra. At the moment you’re just another enemy.”  
Alice shivered again at the memory of Bucky’s behaviour in the cell. His hunted expression. The way he moved, with his back to the wall like a frightened animal.  
“He doesn’t know you any more than he knows me,” Steve objected.  
Alice glanced at him sidelong and straightened her loose black shirt. The collar, like always, was high around her neck, and it rubbed against her skin, itching, when she turned to look at Steve. “Unlike you, I’m trained specifically to help victims of severe psychological trauma. I’m a doctor, not a friend, and as such I’m not likely to let my emotions get in the way. Also, I’m a little less physically intimidating than you.”  
Steve looked down at her slight form with chagrin. She looked very small and delicate next to his bulk. Even dressed head to toe in her standard black outfits, with her heavy black boots, she seemed to emit an aura of calm gentleness from herself like heat. He knew she could hold her own, and Bucky had seen it too, but it was true, she didn’t look dangerous by comparison. Steve decided to switch tactics.  
“What if he attacks you? You don’t just look less dangerous, you aren’t even fully trained.”  
“I don’t need to be fully trained,” Alice replied calmly, “I’ve had capsules of the tranquilliser implanted in his shoulder, under the edge of his metal shoulder plate. All I need is to have F.R.I.D.A.Y standing by to activate one of those if I give the word. Which I did by the way, today, when he attacked me as I tried to leave.”  
Steve shuddered. The idea was horrific. He imagined what it would be like to be forced asleep at any moment. Then, he processed the rest of the information.  
“Wait, he attacked you? Are you ok?”  
Alice shrugged and then winced, “I’m fine, more or less. He wasn’t trying to hurt me, really. He wasn’t trying not to hurt me either, but he just wanted to escape. I was between him and the door.”  
Steve shook his head slowly distress showing in the tight lines around his eyes. “I can’t believe that Bucky would do that. He isn’t like this. He’s a good person.”  
Alice’s brow wrinkled slightly. “Steve, have you read about Bucky? I mean, from the files that you got when you dumped all of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra’s details onto the internet? There was a lot of content in there that strongly suggests that your friend should be behaving even more aggressively than he is.”  
“I’ve read it. Well, some of it,” Steve said, he crossed his arms, defensive. “Natasha’s been helping me. I can’t really read Russian.”  
“Well,” Alice said hesitantly, “I have been reading them, and there are some things about Bucky that you should know. Why don’t you come with me and we can go over some of his files together?”  
Alice began walking down the hall toward her rooms. She beckoned for Steve to follow and after a brief pause, he stepped up in time with her footfalls. His long strides easily covered the small gap between them. As they walked, Alice glanced at Steve sidelong through her lashes. He was frowning, staring at the ground as he walked. His lips were pressed together in a hard line. Alice felt a pang of sadness at his obvious emotional turmoil. She felt that she was only just beginning to understand his love for Bucky, how much the dark haired soldier meant to Captain America. She bit her lip, suddenly hesitant to reveal some of the horrors that she had found in his medical files.  
“Steve… about Bucky. There is a lot of really bad stuff, I don’t know…”  
“I know he’s done bad things, ok, I get it,” Steve snapped, talking over Alice as if she didn’t exist. “That doesn’t mean that he’s evil. He was forced to do those things. Who knows what they did to make him do what he did.”  
“No, you’re not listening,” Alice replied. “That’s the thing... I know what they did to him to make him comply. I’ve read about two thirds of his files. Not about the things he has done, but about the… procedures that were performed on him. Steve, he shouldn’t be alive. He’s a super soldier, and he still shouldn’t be alive.”  
Alice’s stomach clenched at the memories of what she had read. Even in the cold, clinical language of the files, the procedures described were grotesque, the punishments more so. Steve was staring at her, eyes half lidded, mouth slightly open in disbelief.  
“You mean you have his medical history? How?” Steve asked when he had recovered enough to speak.  
“I had F.R.I.D.A.Y. pull it together from it’s scattered files on the internet as soon as you gave me permission to work with Bucky once you found him. It took a lot of searching, and it was pretty well encrypted. I’m still working my way through it. I’m hoping it can give me some insights.  
“And?” Steve asked, “what have you found?”  
Alice shook her head. “Steve, I know you want Bucky back, and I know that Super Soldiers have an amazing capacity for healing, but… I don’t know. I’ve seen recent scans of his brain, hell, our doctors performed PET and CT scans when he came in. There is so much damage, not just psychological damage, but physical harm done to his brain. His body too, there are breaks on top of breaks in his bones. Scars on top of scars. His medication list, I thought could not possibly include all of the medications and dosages that it said, it’s not survivable. Yet, the initial blood work results from the lab indicate that the information I’ve been reading is entirely factual. On paper, his body and mind is an utter ruin. I have no idea if his powers of healing can bring him back from this.”  
Steve’s disbelieving expression was back, but tinged with a hint of anger. He shook his head slowly, denying Alice’s words silently. His fists trembled as they clenched, knuckles whitening.  
“Hydra will burn to the ground for this. I’ll make sure of it. I don’t care how many heads they talk about having, I’ll cut out their fucking heart. I will rip them all to shreds.”  
His whole body was shaking, and Alice hesitantly put her hand on his elbow.  
“I know you feel useless now, but as much as you want to destroy Hydra, please don’t go off on a suicide mission. If Bucky begins to recover, he will need you, desperately, in the coming months.”  
Steve nodded slightly. His body still shook slightly, but his face was relaxing slightly.  
“He will get better. And when he does, I’ll be there for him, every step of the way,” Steve paused, and a slight, hard smile flickered across his features. “Until the end of the line,” he murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are back for chapter four and a bit of a closer look at the dynamic between Alice and Steve. As you can probably see, their professional relationship is complicated. This chapter needed a lot of work, and I have been chopping and changing it for the last week, trying to make it work as best as it could. I wanted readers to get a full understanding of the scope of Bucky’s injuries. I also needed Alice to give poor Steve a head’s up. Thanks for the support so far. I’m genuinely so surprised and glad that there are people out there who actually like reading my little pet project.


	5. 17-9-1

The Asset was aware of the slow, sliding passage of time as he lay curled in the room. After many long hours had passed, he suddenly heard the soft sound of footsteps outside his door. He sat bolt upright, eyes snapped wide open. The footsteps stopped suddenly, and he got a clear flashing memory of the dark haired woman sitting in the chair, staring at him. He sprang to his feet, noiseless as a cat, and opened the bedroom door a crack. The woman was in the chair, in the exact position that she had been the previous day. She had a file in her hands and she was reading it silently. He stood frozen in the doorway, waiting for something to happen. After a moment, she turned a page, but she didn’t look up. Very slowly, the Asset stepped into the room. She glanced up as he entered, and lowered the file.  
“You didn’t eat anything yesterday,” she said.  
The Asset flinched at her voice, and then responded without thinking, “I don’t eat, I never eat. Weapons do not need food.”  
He caught himself at the end of the sentence, the last word half swallowed. He had broken his protocol and spoken to his captor. It had only been a day and he had already disobeyed his orders. His masters would know, and he would be punished. He clenched his jaw tightly shut to silence the despairing sound welling up in his throat. His chest was tight. He had already failed.  
“You’re not just a weapon, you’re a person, you must eat sometimes?”  
The Asset only shook his head. He had never eaten food, his power supply, if ever it got low, was passed through a tube forced down his throat, its presence a harsh violation. Rarely was he off ice long enough to need it, 6 days was the limit before he used his emergency supply kit.  
“If you don’t eat, Bucky, how do you get your energy?” she asked.  
The name filled his head like a swarm of bees. An excruciating flash shot through his head and he felt himself falling. His arm was in so much pain. It was cold. He shook his head hard.  
“Don’t call me that,” the words snapped from him and he clapped both hands over his mouth, eyes wide. He would be punished now. Not only by his masters, but by his captor. She would tie him down and tear chunks out of his flesh for giving her an order, she would…  
“What should I call you then? What’s your name?”  
The Asset blinked, shocked by her quiet reply. She didn’t even seem angry. He took a step back from her, flinching away.  
“I,” he hesitated, “weapons have no name. I am Asset 17-9-1.”  
“I don’t think I can call you that. I’m not calling you by a number like a machine.”  
The Asset was silent, head lowered.  
“You get called the Winter Soldier. Can I call you Winter?”  
Again the Asset was frozen, unsure of how to respond. He didn’t know what the correct answer was. Would he be punished for responding at all? Would he be punished for being silent? His breathing sped up. The woman waited, watching him silently. The name wasn’t him, any more than Bucky was, but it did not cause him pain, and if it meant avoiding punishment, he would respond to it here.  
“Yes, you can call me that,” he replied in a whisper.  
She nodded briskly, “Winter it is then. And I am called Alice. So now we know one another.”  
The Asset blinked. He realised he had never known the names of any of his old masters. He turned the name over in his brain, analysing the meaning of her giving him the information. Alice was watching him intently. He felt pinned by her gaze, longing to escape. After a long moment, she stood with a sigh.  
“You should eat something, it will make your withdrawals from whatever they’ve been keeping you on a little easier.”  
She stood, and the Asset backed into the bedroom quickly, but she only picked up the old tray of food and left the space as quietly as she had entered it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Presenting another belated Bucky chapter, or maybe we should start calling them Winter chapters. It’s nice to see Bucky and Alice finally have some sort of conversation. Maybe this will be the start of a beautiful friendship? Anyway, as always, any comments and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated ^.^
> 
> Also, I’m really sorry to anyone who might have been hanging out for an update. It’s been a hectic two weeks and I’ll try not to let this sort of interruption happen again (no promises though). Anyway, by way of apology, I’m going to interrupt my post schedule and post my next chapter tomorrow, so stay tuned for Alice, Steve, and Natasha being anxious!


	6. The Hours Passing

The days crept by, and Alice watched as Bucky grew gradually more desperate for escape. It had been eight days now and in that time he still had not eaten, or drank, or slept. He had not used the bathroom for any of its intended purposes, and was still wearing the same clothing that he had been dressed in before he had awoken.   
Alice stood in a dark room, with the bluish lights of several surveillance screens flickering across her face. On the screens, Alice could watch several different angles of Bucky pacing in front of the blank wall where she entered and left his rooms. His eyes were wide and his hands were clenched tightly. Alice sighed softly to herself. Bucky still looked like a hunted animal, and so far her short daily visits had not had any affect on him. He still would not speak to her or approach her. After the single, short conversation that they had shared on the second day of his imprisonment, he had simply stared at her from the corner whenever she brought in another tray of food.   
Steve opened the door and entered the room behind her. He too spent long hours staring at the screens, face desperately sad and worried.   
“No change?” he asked as he entered.   
Alice shook her head, “he is remarkably resilient to have made it this far without eating, drinking, or sleeping. Part of that is probably down to the cocktail of drugs that they pumped into him to keep him alive and under control, but I think that’s all wearing off now. Breaking point has to come eventually.”  
Steve’s eyes were panicked as they met Alice’s. “Can’t you do something? Get him to eat? Speed up the withdrawal process?”  
Alice sighed softly before responding. “Steve, he has proven that he isn’t going to touch food without some drastic change, more than is in my power. The doctors have been giving me updates on his blood-work findings and the chemicals in him are incredibly potent. The doctors have identified appetite suppressants, anaphrodisiacs, anti-psychotics, and a couple of potent neurotoxins that should by all rights be rendering him incapable of normal function. He has several slow release capsules embedded in his muscle tissues, and the doctors believe that there are other medications and god knows what else still in his digestive tract. He needs to see this out, and work the medication out of his body.”  
“That’s it? You’re not going to surgically remove them, give him something to counteract them? Anything? What if it takes years for these things to get out of his system?”  
Alice turned to stare at Steve, incredulous. “How long does it take medication to clear your system?”  
“That’s different!” Steve snarled, “For one thing, I don’t have unknown quantities buried in my muscle tissues!”  
Alice flinched, and when she spoke again her voice shook slightly. “If it gets really bad he will pass-out and I will intubate him.”  
“That’s your answer? What are you even doing here? Useless. You don’t even know what you’re doing, do you?”   
Steve was beginning to look dangerous. Alice pressed her lips into a thin line, her hands clenched behind her back, and she turned back to the screens, shielding her face from him with her hair. “Steve, Bucky is going to get better, but I’m afraid he may have to get worse first. He needs to heal. To discover that he really is human enough to have needs.”  
Steve shook his head in disgust and stomped out of the room. Alice watched him go with a sad sigh before turning back to the screens once more. Behind her, the door clicked back open. Alice didn’t turn around. “Back to shout at me again? I’m sure that the door slam was a really necessary part of your performance,” she said tiredly.   
“It’s just me.”  
Alice spun around. “Natasha!” she gasped, and leapt into the older woman’s arms, a huge smile brightening her face.   
“Alice,” Natasha smiled, hugging her in return, “has Steve been giving you a hard time?”  
Alice’s smile disappeared. She bit her lip. “Steve is questioning my ability to care for Bucky properly,” she said quietly.  
“Well that’s nothing new, we’ve been hearing this from day zero, as soon as you volunteered your services in the first place.”  
Natasha looked down into Alice’s eyes, and was startled to see bright tears hovering at their corners.   
“Tasha… what if he’s right?” Alice whispered.  
Natasha half smiled. “Come on Al, you’re doing fine, look how well you’ve done with Tony, or Bruce, or Clint even. All your training…”  
“It didn’t prepare me for this,” Alice said softly, tears finally losing to gravity and trickling down her cheeks. “I keep trying to be calm and wise for Steve, but I don’t know what I’m doing. This is like nothing I’ve dealt with before. I’m scared that I can’t help him. What if I’m doing something wrong?”  
Natasha blinked, struggling for words. It was utterly unlike Alice to reveal anything other than calm confidence when it came to her work. She opened and closed her mouth twice, before putting her arms back around Alice’s shoulders in another light hug. “You’ll do your best,” she tried, grimacing slightly at the ineffectiveness of her own comfort, “and you’ll do better than any other doctor we have on our team. I believe you can do this.”  
“Thanks, Natasha,” Alice murmured, her voice muffled against Natasha’s shoulder, “I really hope you’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is my apology chapter as promised! Now we can get back to our regularly scheduled programming. I don’t know what anyone else thinks about these non-Bucky chapters, but I really like forcing a bunch of different characters to interact with one another, and these outside perspective chapters make such interaction much more possible at this stage. I’m not sure if I will continue this format for the entirety of the fic, but as time goes on, I hope that I will develop a more clear plan of how to proceed (of course if any readers want to give me advice on this, I would always appreciate it.)
> 
> Isn’t it nice to get a little bit of Black Widow in the story? (If you’re thinking ‘yes but it isn’t enough’ don’t worry, she shows up a lot more down the track) It honestly makes me angry that she doesn’t have her own movie yet. Until the MCU producers step up their game though, I’ll just stick to sprinkling her liberally through this fic.


	7. Withdrawals

The Asset paced up and down in an agony of panic. It had been fifteen days since he was captured, a full six days after he should have used his emergency supplies to rebalance and energise his body. He was beginning to lose moments of time. He felt heavy and weak. Every day, Alice still brought in trays of food and drink that he left untouched. Every day, her face grew tighter as he did not eat. Her mouth was drawn into a stiff still line, a wrinkle furrowed her brow. The Asset was growing desperate to escape, but his desperation was being matched by his growing weakness. Even ignoring the possibility that she might tranquilliser him if he tried, he could not overpower Alice in this depleted state, not in open combat. On the fifteenth day, in utter desperation, he decided to ambush her as she entered his prison. He waited by by the door that she used to enter, and on that day the door did not open.   
The Asset stood by the door, awakening slowly to the realisation that Alice was not coming. He moaned softly in his throat as a spasm shook his body. He could almost feel himself dying by increments; vision blurring, limbs shaking, organs shutting down. He was glad that it could end this way rather than through torture. As he leaned against the wall near the door, he stumbled slightly and slipped free of time.   
He fell from a train. It was snowing. The cold air rushed past his face, burning his mouth and nose as he took a deep breath, preparing to scream.  
He came back into the world on his hands and knees. Another spasm shook his body. Suddenly, the door to his cell slid open and he saw the solid leather boots of his captor. Struggling to stand, he reached for the exit. If he could just get home to his masters, they would be able to repair him. He collapsed back to his knees, back arching with another convulsion, and leaned forward as he vomited a thick, clear gel onto the pale wooden floor by Alice’s feet. She knelt beside him. He needed to get away right now, she was too close, she was going to kill him while he was down, he was so weak…  
“Winter, your body is beginning to reject your energy supplies. You’re going into withdrawal from the drugs that Hydra put into your body. We need to get you somewhere safe.”   
The Asset stared up at her in a blind panic, before bending forward and vomiting more strings of the thick, clear fluid.  
“Winter, I need you to stand up for me, right now.”   
The Asset cringed away, then tried to follow Alice’s orders. His whole body was shaking now, not strong enough to obey his will. He groaned in pain.  
“I can’t! I can’t stand” he gasped out the panicked response. He whimpered at his own weakness.  
Cold shards of terror shot through his body at Alice’s response. She knelt beside him and stared with intense focus into his eyes for a long moment.   
“Then, I’m sorry,” she said quietly.  
She reached her arm around his back and under his arms, straining to lift him. The Asset almost gagged in horror as she laid her hands on him, and he put as much force into straightening his legs as he could draw from the rest of his shaking body. He was standing. Alice’s arm was still around him.   
“We need to get you to the bedroom. I need you to get onto bed so that you can ride this out,” Alice said.  
The Asset stumbled and tried his best to obey. He needed her hands off his body. He needed this to stop. Halfway to the bedroom, he nearly collapsed has he vomited for a third time, splattering her shoes and clothing. This time the fluid was stained pinkish with his blood. Alice’s mouth was set in a hard line. He drew on strength that he didn’t think he still had and made it the last few steps to the bedroom before collapsing onto the bed, his vision blacking out. 

*****

The black faded to grey and then into white and the Asset could hear soft beeps and he struggled to open his eyes and make sense of the world again. His eyes finally obeyed orders and slid slowly open. He was still in the bedroom where he had been left, and in a chair next to his bed was Alice, asleep. Still returning slowly to the world, stared at her without the usual fear that he experienced. She looked younger with all the lines of worry smoothed out. Her eyelashes were dark and long against her pale cheeks. In the harsh light he could see faint scars crisscrossing her cheeks and traveling down her neck. He turned to look at what was on the other side of his bed and saw a machine blinking and beeping as it registered his heartbeat, slow and steady on the monitor. Nearby, a bag hung from a pole and dripped a clear fluid through a tube into his flesh arm. He moved to sit up, to reach to pull the tube out, and then realised that metal restraints were locking him down.   
There was a moment in which he was frozen still, while his heart rate accelerated, then he began to thrash against his bonds. They held him tightly, and his panic only increased.  
Alice’s eyes snapped open and she stumbled to her feet. “Bu-Winter calm down, be still!”  
The Asset’s breath came in shallow gasps, as he continued to struggle against the bonds. Alice bent over him and he twisted his body away from her as much as he could. His metal arm was clicking, powering up for a hard wrench against the cuffs holding it down.   
“Winter, please, you were restrained for your own safety. I’m going to free you now that you’re awake.”  
Alice stepped back from the bed slightly, hands open, palms out.   
“Winter, I just need you to be still so I can unlock your cuffs. Please,” her voice was very soft.  
His whole body shaking, the Asset obeyed her. He stilled himself, watching her with wide eyes. Alice slowly and carefully moved to the other side of the bed.  
“First I’m going to remove your IV tube, ok? It’s going to sting a little as I pull it out. Please stay still.”  
Slowly and deliberately, she placed her hand on the tape covering the needle in his arm and lifted it. Then, she pulled the needle free as gently as she could. He felt the sting but held himself rigidly frozen.   
“Ok, I’m going to unlock the cuffs now. It’s ok, you’ll be free in a moment.”   
She peeled the blankets back off his body. He was still wearing the same clothes from before he blacked out. She bent over the metal band holding down his flesh forearm, and pressed her thumb into a slight indentation in the top. There was a series of beeps, and the cuff unlocked. The Asset clenched and unclenched his flesh hand, as Alice performed the same movement to free his upper arm. As soon as his first arm was free, the Asset began the thrash again, scrabbling with his free hands against the bonds that still held him.  
“Winter!” it was the closest Alice had come to raising her voice and he flinched at the sharp tone, “I’ve told you I will free you, I’ve started to free you. Stop fighting and let me help you.”  
The Asset stilled again, as Alice gently put a hand on his calf and freed him from the iron band around his right ankle. She moved to his right thigh and both limbs on his right side were free. She quickly released the bonds on his left leg, and moved to his metal arm. The band around his wrist disengaged, but did not open. It was bent and twisted out of shape, locked closed from his struggles. Alice released his upper arm, then stared at his wrist for a moment.  
“See if you can get free of that one,” she said, tapping the mangled wrist cuff, “otherwise I’m going to have to cut it off you.” The Asset felt the plates in his arm shift as it powered up, then, he flung his strength against the broken cuff. It snapped open. Now only a double band over his chest and hips was holding him down, and the panic of immobility was building like a flood inside him. Alice bent over his body and he shuddered down and away from her proximity. Her hand slid lightly across his stomach as she unclasped his hip iron, and she very quickly touched her thumb to the chest iron and stepped back as it opened. The Asset was out of the bed and into the farthest corner of the room before he had even thought about being there. He stood in the corner for a long moment breathing hard. Alice watched him from her side of the room, keeping all of her body language soft and nonthreatening. The Asset focused on his breathing for a moment and then hesitantly cocked his head in Alice’s direction.  
“How long have I been unconscious?” his voice was husky and soft, his body felt shaky.   
“Just under four days. You’ve been sleeping naturally for the last 19 hours or so.”  
He felt thin and shocked by the information. “Four days,” then he processed the other part of what Alice had said. “Sleep? I don’t sleep.”   
“Well you have been sleeping. It was long overdue as well. You were exhausted.”  
The Asset blinked, processing this new information. His stomach felt hollow and clenched and he placed his hand over it, unused to the new sensation.   
Alice noticed his hand and added, “you have also been intubated and given liquid nutrition during the time that you were unconscious. You should try eating now that you’re awake.”  
The Asset started to shake his head and say something about not eating, but his stomach clenched painfully as he tried to speak.  
“Please, Winter, just try it,” Alice said softly, “and if you can’t eat it, I’m sure your body will let you know.”  
The Asset’s stomach growled and he jumped, heart stuttering.  
“Your body is telling you to eat,” Alice coaxed gently.  
He stared down at his body, feeling confusion at its sudden betrayal. Alice turned and walked out of the bedroom, and after a long moment of hesitation, the Asset followed her. On the table in the dining room, Alice placed a bowl of something that steamed gently, and a tall glass of water. The Asset approached the table cautiously, but the smell of the food hit him suddenly in a way that it never had before and his pace quickened. The bowl was filled with a thick pale liquid. He gingerly picked up the spoon in his flesh hand, dipped it into the soup, and put it in his mouth. A number of sensations hit his body at once; the smooth, creamy texture, the spreading warmth in his mouth, the flavour, and as he swallowed, another sharp clench of his stomach. He took another mouthful, then another. Alice kept a careful distance from him and watched intently.   
“Try not to eat too quickly at first, give your body some time to adjust. And drink some water.”  
The words had the phrasing of commands, but she uttered them gently enough that it confused him. Would he be punished if he did not comply? He tried to slow his mouthfuls, though his body was exerting such a strong pull over him that compliance was difficult. He lifted the glass of water and took a sip, and the water hit his stomach with a further cool relief. The sensations were so new, so strange, that they were almost frightening. He quickly finished the entire bowl of soup and drained the glass of water. He looked down at his hands and wondered if they were his own.   
As he finished, Alice gave a quick nod. “Excellent,” she said, and despite everything, despite the fact that she was his captor and an enemy, the Asset felt a small glow at the unexpected praise.   
Alice took a single step forward; enough to focus his attention suddenly, sharply on her.   
“Right,” she said, “I think it’s time that you had a shower. Up you get.”   
Again, her words were gentle, but the Asset cringed away from the command. Showers were a punishment to be endured. Stripped and strapped to a metal bar in a cold concrete room, he would be sprayed with harsh jets of icy water by attendants, and then scrubbed raw by their brushes. Slowly he rose to his feet and walked toward the bathroom. He shivered, longing to defy the orders and suffer the consequences. When he had done this with his old masters however, he had simply been punished, then showered; forcibly dragged into the room, the bathing attendants left with special instructions to treat him as roughly as they wished, so long as they performed an exceptionally thorough wash. He pushed the bathroom door open and stood still, waiting for the attendants to descend. When they did not, he hesitantly glanced around and looked enquiringly at Alice, still standing in the middle of the room.   
“Off you go,” she said encouragingly.   
The Asset shuffled his feet in confusion and growing worry. He didn’t want to be punished for disobedience, but without the attendants he simply didn’t know how to proceed. Alice frowned slightly and the Asset cringed.  
“Please, I’m not…I don’t want to disobey, I just don’t…” he stopped, his gaze dropping to the floor, horrified that he had spoken out against her orders.   
“Winter,” Alice said gently, and he raised his head slowly again to meet her green eyes, “I suppose you haven’t used a shower like this before?”  
Still confused, he silently shook his head.   
“I’m sorry,” she said, and he was shocked that she apologised to him, “would you follow me then and I will teach you?”  
The question also confused him. Was she testing to make sure he wasn’t defying her orders? Very hesitantly, he nodded his head. Alice smiled, and it transformed her whole face; made her into a person that it felt ok to follow.  
“Well first let’s go and choose some new clothes to wear after you’re finished in the shower. Come to the bedroom.”  
The Asset obeyed quickly, walking into the bedroom and then looking enquiringly at her for more instructions.  
“Ok, open the cupboards, and choose one shirt, a pair of pants, and underwear if you would like.”  
The Asset did as he was told, choosing at random a pair of black pants and a dark blue shirt.   
“Good, ok lets go back to the bathroom.”  
The Asset trailed after Alice as they returned to the bathroom. Very slowly, he entered the space behind her. This room was small and there wasn’t enough distance between them. The Asset was stiff with tension, keeping his breathing tightly controlled.   
“Ok, so you will close the door and take your clothes off, no not now!” she added quickly, as the Asset clicked the door closed and began removing his shirt.   
The Asset stood frozen, releasing the shirt, before sinking slowly to his knees, “I’m sorry,” he whispered, waiting for punishment.  
“It’s ok, just, I’ll explain what to do, then leave so that you can have some privacy.”   
The Asset stared up into her face, uncomprehending. He had behaved incorrectly, and yet she had immediately told him that it was ok? Her behaviour was so erratic, it defied everything he had been taught to expect.   
Alice began to speak again: “So first I will leave and then you will close the door and remove your clothes. You will use this handle here to turn on the water like so,” she demonstrated, letting a quick jet of water arc onto the shower floor, “ and turn it this way to change the temperature,” she swivelled the handle back and forth. “Then you will wash your body with this sponge, covered in a couple of pumps of this soap. If you want to, you can wash your hair with a little bit of this,” she tapped on the bottle, “and comb it with this comb. After you have finished, get out of the shower, dry all of the water off your body with this towel, put on your fresh clothes, and come back out again. I’ll wait outside. Am I clear?”  
The Asset wasn’t entirely certain, but he nodded his head anyway, frightened of the consequences of his ignorance. Alice gave him another small smile, then slipped past him, much too close, and left the room. He carefully shut the door behind her and removed his clothing. Apprehensive, he stood in front of the shower for a long moment before steeling himself and stepping inside. He pulled the tap as instructed and waited for the cold, painful blast of water that would follow. The blast never came. Instead the water hit him gently as a heavy fall of rain, and though it was cold for a moment, it soon bloomed into a glorious warmth that radiated over and through him. He stared up, blinking through the falling water in astonishment. Closing his eyes into the spray, he let the water trickle over his body, amazed. It was so gentle, so warm and pleasant that it felt like a strange dream. He suddenly remembered his instructions, and pumped the soap onto the sponge, and began to rub it over his body. The soap had a scent, rich and sweet and spicy. The sponge was almost as gentle as the water on his skin. As he washed, he saw greyish water and soap bubbles sluicing off his body. He used the other bottle of liquid to wash his hair, putting a couple of pumps onto his hand and rubbing it through, before rinsing it out. It had a different scent to the soap. The Asset never wanted the shower to end, but his orders were clear. He was to turn the shower off, exit and dry himself once he had finished with the washing. He sighed and turned off the tap, before stepping out of the shower and reaching for his towel. It was so soft. He ran it slowly over his skin, marvelling at the texture. He did his best to dry himself completely, and finally put his new clothing on. It smelt clean and fresh. His hair was still damp, and he felt a stab of worry that this was wrong, but he did not know how to dry it further. Very cautiously, he opened the door and peered out. Alice had taken her usual position in the armchair. When the Asset opened the door, she looked up and her face broke into a broad smile.   
“Good! Oh that is so much better. Thank you, Winter.”  
The Asset was once again shocked by her reaction, by her cheerful pleasure at him simply completing the task that she had assigned him. She stood and he flinched slightly, but stood his ground.   
“I’m leaving now, until tomorrow, but I have some parting instructions for you,” Alice said. “I’m leaving the cup for you. Fill it with water from the tap and drink whenever you are thirsty. I will bring you more food tomorrow, and I want you to eat until your body feels satisfied and you no longer want to eat more. I want you to sleep when your eyes feel heavy. I want you to shower every day, and use the toilet when you feel you need to, here.” She touched the lower part of her belly. Do you have any questions about those instructions?”   
The Asset shook his head, and Alice smiled. She turned and walked to the blank section of wall. It slid open.  
“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Winter,” she said. The door slid silently shut behind her, and the Asset stood still, feeling suddenly empty with her loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I’m off schedule with posting this chapter (again) but at least I’m only off by a day this time! So here we have it, another Bucky and Alice chapter, in which Bucky realised that he is actually a human who needs to eat and sleep and keep himself clean. Could we finally have a breakthrough? Has the Asset finally begun to trust Alice? It’s a mystery (only to you guys though, I’m already about 15 chapters ahead in this story). 
> 
> Anyways, this is kind of a long chapter and I get that not a huge amount happens, action-wise, so as always, any feedback and/or criticism is welcomed. Seriously, I won’t get mad or sad if you tell me that you hate it. I’m using this fan fiction kind of as a way to improve my writing on the original works that I’ve got in the works, and I’m always on the look out for advice on how to improve.


	8. Boyfriends and Lovers Past

Alice walked into her rooms with a long sigh and collapsed on the lounge, exhausted. The last four days had drawn dark circles under her eyes, and added weight to her steps. She struggled against her exhaustion for a moment, before giving in and letting her eyes slide closed. There was a knock at the door. Alice groaned.  
“He’s fine, Steve,” she yelled, “he’s doing better than me at the moment actually, so can you give it a rest?”   
Her door clicked open and Sam Wilson’s face peered around the edge of it.   
“I actually just wanted to know how you were doing.”  
“Oh, hi Sam, uh, sorry about that.”  
Sam grinned, “oh no need to be sorry, Steve is here too and he does want to know about Bucky.”  
Alice pressed her thumbs to her temples with a groan, “I guess you two should come in.”  
Sam stepped into the room and Steve followed behind him looking sheepish. The two men sat close to one another on the opposite lounge to Alice, knees just touching. Alice wondered how Sam felt about all of this. It must be difficult for him to see his boyfriend pining so obviously after his ex. Steve still clearly cared for Sam, but the integrity of the relationship was being called into question by Bucky’s unexpected aliveness. Steve put a hand lightly on Sam’s knee, rubbing his thumb in small circles.   
“So Alice, you look like shit,” Sam said, “is there anything we can do?”  
Alice smiled tiredly at him. “You could make me dinner and let me sleep.”  
Sam nodded his head. “We can do that, can’t we, Steve.”  
Steve nodded his head, then fidgeted, looked uncomfortable, and finally burst out, “is Bucky ok?”  
Alice rolled her eyes before replying. “He’s fine, he’s awake, he has eaten and had a shower, he even spoke to me.”  
Relief flooded Steve’s eyes. He nodded his head slowly, and some more of the tension drained out of his body.   
“When can I see him?”   
“I’m not sure, but maybe in a week or two?” Alice replied cautiously.   
To Alice’s surprise, it was Sam who replied. “Can’t it be sooner? Steve will not shut up about Bucky and it’s just. Getting. So. Boring.”  
Alice smiled and covered it quickly with her hand. “I don’t know Sam, I just want him to be a bit more stable before we introduce that. The last few times Steve and Bucky have interacted, its sort of been a deadly force style situation.”   
Sam nodded and switched topics. “How are things going between you and Tony?” he asked.  
“Between me and Tony, things are fine, but between me and Pepper, well, I’m just avoiding her at the moment.”  
Sam grimaced and silently, Alice agreed with the expression. Pepper was, difficult. The situation was complicated by her distrust of Alice’s intentions, her apparent youth, and the interest in cybernetics that she shared with Tony.   
“I just wish that she would believe me when I tell her that I am not even slightly interested in Tony romantically.”  
“I suppose,” Sam began cautiously, “that, that might be a little difficult to believe with Tony’s track record.”  
“Well my track record is perfect, and I am not a liar.” Alice replied grumpily. She sighed and added, “I’m sorry, it’s just getting to me a bit, and I’m just so tired from looking after Bucky all the time.”   
“I’m sorry this has been a hard month for you,” Steve said. His words were stiff but Alice thought they were genuine.   
“I guess it hasn’t been the easiest few weeks for you either,” she ventured cautiously in reply, “with Bucky and everything. I guess I just haven’t been taking it well because Tony’s workshop always felt like an escape for me, when things got a bit intense out here. Now that I really need it though, I’m not really welcome any longer.”  
Steve nodded slightly and Alice thought that perhaps they understood each other better in that moment than they had in some time, certainly since Bucky had been given into her care. “Things will get better, for both of us,” Steve said, “we just need more time, same as Bucky.”  
Alice smiled tiredly at him. He looked so tired as well, she suddenly realised, with the bluish shadows under his eyes making the blue of his irises even more apparent. She felt a sudden guilt that she wasn’t taking care of him now that he needed it. Her job had originally been to provide psychiatric help to Tony, but after certain events last year had led her to be introduced to the Avengers as a unit, her responsibilities had grown to extend to all members of the group. Lately though, she had been so caught up in Bucky, and in the debacle with Tony and Pepper that she had let her duties slip. Admittedly, Steve had never been high on her priority list to begin with. Tony’s obvious PTSD, as well as Clint’s suicidal tendencies, and Bruce’s very apparent anger issues had always held her attention more closely than the apparently well adjusted Captain America. Looking at the exhaustion on Steve’s face however, Alice wondered if perhaps she had been neglecting her duties for longer than she had supposed. Steve clearly had a lot of unresolved emotions, and probably some buried trauma that she should have picked up on. She felt a sudden twist of shame in her belly. It wasn’t just that she had thought that he needed help, she hadn’t wanted to think about him. In fact, she suddenly wasn’t sure if she had even had a single proper conversation with Steve. The first time they had interacted closely was during the collaboration on Bucky’s capture. And only then because Natasha had suggested to Steve that perhaps a person with psychological knowledge might be better qualified to bring the brainwashed and traumatised super-soldier in.  
I just don’t like him, she thought with a wash of shame, because he seems boring to me. All I think of when I picture him is the patriot soldier I read about in history books. I haven’t even taken the time to get to know him.  
Sam stood up, and Alice realised that she had been sitting in thoughtful silence for a few minutes, completely oblivious of her guests.   
“Sorry I got so zoned out,” she began, but Sam just held up his hand in a shushing motion and gave her a sympathetic squeeze on the shoulder. “We’ll go start cooking, ok Steve?”  
Steve nodded mechanically and got to his feet as well.   
“Did we really agree to cook for her?” he asked grumpily.  
“Aww babe,” Sam said, leaning in to give Steve a gentle kiss on the cheek, “are you really going to be grumpy about cooking for the doctor who is repairing the heart and mind of the true love of your life?”  
Steve blushed and frowned. “You’re the true love of my life.”  
“Why can’t you have both?” Sam replied with a snicker.  
Alice smiled, let out a long sigh, and let her eyes slide closed once more. Sam was good for Steve. They would both be ok. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand we are back! Sorry again for messing up my post schedule. I think at this point it is time to admit that my schedule is a lie and call it a day. I would blame my busy life, but let’s be real, it’s probably the clinical depression.
> 
> Anyway, here we have Alice being tired and a little bit bitchy, while Steve and Sam are being cute boyfriends forever. I mean honestly, Stucky forever, but Sam and Steve is also such a cute pairing I can’t get over it. Anyway, as always, feedback is always appreciated. Thanks to everyone who actually takes the time to read my silly little fic. Your support means the world to me


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